Father and Son Over 300 Years
by Masked Marshmellow Maniac
Summary: France raised Canada, but when Britain came and demanded custody, a Seven Year war was the result and Canada was left in the middle of a war between his parents. Explores Canada's history and parental relationships with England and France. Some yaoi hinted between France and England. Mostly a history based fanfiction. Enjoy.


**I guess you could say I woke up and felt like writing a Canada fanfiction. I'm Canadian myself. Since none of my other historical fanfictions worked out, I'm hoping this one will get me noticed as a writer. Sister is so lucky. I suppose that I'm the Canada to Sister's America… Oh well…**

**I thought I'd make a fanfiction about Canada and Britain's relationship as a father and son since there's some hidden history between the two. However, this also demonstrates France and Canada's father and son relationship… Thus I don't really know what characters to put this story under… For now I'll put it under Canada and France…**

**For now, I'm calling it:**

**Father and Son Over 300 Years**

**(****Père et fils****Plus de 300 ans**** {In French})**

**Chapter 1: Kanata**

Once upon a time, there was a French man ready to live his life with the woman of his dreams…

"Jeane, Je t'aime." (Jeane, I love you)

"Francis, Je t'aime aussi ... Je t'aimerai jusqu'à mon dernier souffle." (Francis, I love you too... I'll love you until my dying breathe.)

However, not every story ends with happily ever after…

To get rid of his pain, he traveled for foreign and unknown lands hoping to find something to fill the void in his heart. However, one land he came across was a white, snowy and cold waste land. He saw nothing but ice and snow and the naked trees with the bark being bitten at by the cold. The wind hitting his face, he prepared to leave when suddenly a voice made this land feel so much more alive.

"Qui êtes-vous?" (Who are you?) The voice was small. When the man looked in the direction of the voice, he only found a small child. "Qui êtes-vous?" (Who are you?) The child asked while tugging on his coat.

"Bonjour Mon petite." (Hello, my little one) He kneeled down, knees touching the snow. He looked at the innocent child, his blonde hair and violet-blue eyes reminding him of himself. "Où êtes-vous?" (Where are you from?)

The child only shook his head, holding onto a small bear cub as if to keep it warm. "Mon nom est Kanata…" (My name is Kanata)

**The little story about how Canada was found is different from America's (as far as Hetalia goes at any rate). France sailed to the Newfound Land and found Canada, who called himself Kanata. In real life the French traveled to Newfound Land and encountered a tribe of natives there. They called the land Kanata, giving Canada his name.**

France settled down in the new world, taking the boy and raising him on his own. Despite the cold he managed to survive, raising the child as best as he could. Teaching him French and helping him walk was easy… However he found that keeping this child would come at a cost. No matter what, he couldn't help but grow attached to the child. It was the one fact he couldn't deny.

When a certain Englishman tried coming to this new land, then Frenchman was wary. He couldn't have his child be taken away, not after he finally found his happiness. Never the less, the Englishman wanted custody of this child as well… Which led to the Frenchman's worry.

"Mon Petite, would you like something to eat?" France had already made pancakes, holding onto the warm plate while trying to wake his son up after he'd fallen asleep in his high chair.

The boy woke up, still sleepy. "Maple…"

"What? But Papa made these. You don't need-."

"Maple!"

"No, you don't need it."

"Maple, maple! Maple!"

France stood in place, putting the plate of pancakes on the highchair with the boy continuously shouting the word "maple" over and over again. He went to the dining room where he found Britain reading a book and drinking tea.

"Espèce de salaud!" (You bastard!) He shouted in French, slapping the book and tea out of Britain's hands.

Britain coughed, looking down at his shirt, stained with hot tea and the floor decorated with broken porcelain and running ink. "WHAT IN BLOODY HELL WAS THAT FOR!?" The tea seeping through his shirt burned his skin, he'd have to make France buy him a new one.

"Because of you, my son drenches his food in maple syrup!" France shouted in his defense. "This is why I have to cook, because you have no taste!"

"I'm not the one who tortures geese and calls it Haute Cuisine!" Britain shouted. "You were always so bloody busy I had to cook his meals!"

"You've forgotten to feed him a few times because you're always working in America!"

"Don't make me look like a bad father, it's your fault for not giving custody to me sooner!"

"Maple?" The child asked, followed by a large growl coming from his stomach. "Maple!"

"You're the reason he covers his food in syrup. You go get it." France sat down, trying to clear his head. "If you're so damn busy all the time, just go live in America, I can raise him by myself."

"You're one to talk! You've been busy too because you have colonies all over the god damn place!"

"Well I never set foot in India you jerk!"

"You've been making colonies in America, he's mine and mine alone!"

"I can't take this anymore! Canada is my son and you can't take him away from me!"

"You can barely afford to take care of him France!" Britain gave the boy a bottle of maple syrup out of haste, helping France get up out of his chair.

"Non! Let me go!" France slapped him away, only to be pushed up against the wall.

"You're broke! You can't afford to raise him properly! He's nothing but ice and snow for crying out loud!" Britain shouted. "Don't you have colonies in tropical locales? You could make more money off of sugar plantations instead of fire wood and syrup, don't you think?"

"Non, he's still my son!"

"You won't be able to afford it… Get it together France. If you want what's best for your son, just hand him over to me."

"Maple?" The boy was covered in maple syrup, having eaten almost all of his pancakes but noticing his Papa crying. "Papa?"

"Non, he's still mine and there's nothing you can do about it!" France kicked Britain away, taking Canada from his high chair and going to the bathroom. He washed the boy's hands, still sticky with syrup.

"Papa?"

"Hey Canada… Papa's going through some money problems right now… I still want to spend time with you… But you might have to stay with your mother Britain for a while…"

"Mama?"

"Oui, your mother…" France said, shutting the sink off. "I know we haven't been able to spend that much time with you lately, but we still love you."

The boy nodded. "Je t'aime, Papa." (I love you, Papa)

"Oui… I love you too." He said, lovingly kissing his son's forehead.

**The Seven Year War (1756 – 1763), Britain and France were fighting for control over their colonies in the Americas and Canada. However in 1773, Britain imposed the Treaty of France, making France have to choose which colonies to keep… Unfortuneately, Canada was not one of them because he was costly… Instead, France kept his colonies in the Carribien and made money off of sugar plantations. New France (Canada) was now in Britain's custody.**

"Papa…" Canada cried, hating France for leaving, but especially when he was left alone with Britain. "Je veux que mon père." (I want my father.)

"Oh stop crying! You're British now!" Britain shouted, attempting to pick Canada up only to get bit. "BLOODY HELL, WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!"

Canada couldn't help but laugh slightly, the bear cubs coming to him, cuddling and rubbing against him. "Stupide Angleterre." (Stupid England)

**Thus Britain's hardships began…**


End file.
